Mr Harker
by Iorhael
Summary: In the end it’s not Mina he’s chasing after. Spoiler to 4.05. Shapeshifter/Dean. Warning: violence, hurt!Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Now you can't go anywhere anymore, Mr. Harker." _Vlad Dracula_ sniffs at his neck, forcing Dean to look away.

"Who is this _Mr. Harker_ you keep calling me. I'm _not_ Mr. Harker!"

The shapeshifter backhands him and shivers in sickening delight at Dean's agony.

"Ssh, Jonathan," he coos, fingers tracing Dean's jaw and lower lip. "Of course you are Jonathan Harker, my one and only love."

Dean twists in his restraint.

"No, you said it was Mina. You said your bride has been reborn. Mina is your bride, not Jonathan."

The phony Dracula throws his head back and lets out a thunderous laugh. He tightens his long and strong fingers around Dean's neck before loosening them into more like a caress, staring deep into Dean's eyes until the Winchester squirms uneasily, before he, without any warning, dips and engulfs Dean's lips with his own, emitting low, lewd, _aroused_ sounds in his throat.

"Mmppp-l-let me go!" Dean shrieks when his mouth is suddenly released.

A sounding slap answers him.

Dean's panting and gasping, eyes glazed with pain and shadows of fear.

The shapeshifter combs his fingers into Dean's hair now, clearly taking pleasure in the man's discomfort.

"I don't care," he whispers. "I don't care about Mina anymore. Besides, I'm not foolish. I've been watching you and I know it's you that I want, _Dean Winchester_."

Dean wheezes at the mention of his name, and he struggles earnestly before a soaked cloth presses into his nose and mouth and sends him to oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You slew two of my kin, Dean Winchester. You should pay for it."

As if under thick mantles of fog Dean hears his captor blathers. He grapples and flails, trying to find a way out of them when suddenly a sharp pain assails his scalp.

"I know you're awake, Dean. Open your eyes. Wake up NOW!"

The shapeshifter shouts out the last word into Dean's ear, making him flinch involuntarily. To his dismay Dean finds himself still fastened to the wooden slab when he opens his eyes. He regards the creature before him wearily, his head pounding, so nauseated he feels like throwing up. Dean swallows heavily.

"What do you want from me?" he asks.

"I want to punish you, Winchester. For having killed my family."

"Family…" Dean shakes his head slowly; can't help but smile a little. "What do you know about family?"

"Didn't you know, Dean, that I murdered that girl, that lover boy who couldn't keep his hands off his girl at the cemetery, all because of you?" The shapeshifter carries on as though he didn't hear Dean at all. "I wanted you to come, Dean, that's why I did all those."

Dean shakes his head again but this time in disbelief and horror. His eyes widen. And now what, after he did come?

The shapeshifter shrouded in Dracula's façade smirks.

"I want to have a bit of fun with you, Dean Winchester."

_No…_

Dean tenses to see the beast stride toward the opposite wall where there is some kind of a lever that he reaches up for. Dean realizes for the first time that the straps entrapping him to the wood are all solid metal. He is going to be fried alive.

"Goddamnit, stop it!" Dean struggles and panic begins to creep into his head as the shapeshifter doesn't seem to listen to him at all.

Prickling and tingling sensation's crawling to his skin through his clothes where those metal belts connect to, as the evil-minded creature ever so slowly wrenches down the lever.

"No, no, stop it!"

But soon Dean can't say anything anymore through gritted teeth as his body literally bounces when waves of waves of electric currents course through it. His eyes roll upward; there is only one thing in his mind as he blacks out.

_Sam, help me. Please. SAM!_

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Sammy…_

He never cries but this time he doesn't even realize he's crying. Tears seem to leak out of the corners of his eyes in their own accord and he's unable to stop it. He has no energy left to stop it. Everything feels numb. Numb and – dead. Even hell doesn't feel like this. There was still pain, and that's a whole lot better than no feeling at all.

_Help me, Sammy._

Ssh. Easy, Dean. I gotcha. You're safe now. I gotcha.

Help me out of here, Sam.

Sure, sure. Come on.

I – I can't move.

He can't open his eyes, either. And he still can't move. Sam – where is Sam? Dean writhes, frowning as his wrists feel chafed now.

"Sam…"

"Sam? You mean Mr. Helsing, Jonathan?"

Dean's eyes fly open at the different voice and he strains his head up, looking back, feeling nauseated and disgusted realizing that he's lying on his stomach and his hands are wrenched up and tied above his head, and he is _naked_. His wooziness evaporates, replaced by rage.

"You son of a bitch! Let go of me now!"

He gives frantic pulls both with his hands and his legs, apparently the latter bound to the bed, too. Dean almost gags when the shapeshifter's cold hand strokes the small of his back.

"Don't touch me! Get away! Get away!" Dean's practically bouncing from the mattress he is held against. The devilish creature snickers.

"For someone with all these old scars, you definitely have such soft skin, Dean Winchester. And right now, it's all mine."

Dean will not admit defeat no matter how helpless the situation might seem to him. His breath labors as he glares at the ugly Dracula wanna-be, his neck aching at the forced stance.

The shapeshifter groans.

"Winchester, you look so hot like that."

To Dean's dismay it climbs up the bed and begins to straddle his bare thighs. Dean bucks when it touches his hips, and—

_Bang! Bang!_

Dean is slammed down as a heavy, unmoving body lands on top of him.

"Leave my brother alone." A cold, impassive voice follows.

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Dean!"

Sam's heart sinks as he takes in Dean's condition. He can't be too fast getting to his brother's side and grabs the shapeshifter, tossing it off like a stuffed doll to the floor, as if it weighed nothing. Sam has thought the monster's dead already so he literally jumps when it speaks.

"Silver!" Its voice cracks, and then slowly rests the head dramatically on to the hard tiles as it begins to close the eyes. "I guess this is how the movie should end."

"The movie—" Sam is torn between taking care of Dean and venting his rage toward the shapeshifter.

But he decides fast.

"What movie, you bastard!" Sam turns and lands a hard kick to the creature's kidney after quickly snatching a blanket from the foot of the bed and spreading it over Dean's body to spare him from more indignity.

"Hey!" Sam snaps at the shapeshifter when no response comes. In fact, it's not even moving anymore.

"He's dead, Sammy," Dean's shaky voice sifts into Sam's attention. He whirls around and kneels down to get to Dean's level.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam can't stop himself from brushing his brother's hair off his brow though for that Dean groans, causing Sam to pull his hand instantly. Sam gets to work on untying Dean's hands and ankles. Dean's skin feels clammy in his hands.

"Can you stand?" asks Sam helping his brother up. Dean nods weakly, yet his legs cave in when he steps down. Sam tightens his grip upon him. "What did it do to you?" Anxiety laces every drip of his words.

Dean takes a deep breath, his voice watery with frailty and fear seemingly still lodging inside of him when he replies.

"I'm fine, Sammy—"

"Dean…"

"It's the rawhead all over again."

"No."

"Yeah," Dean shrugs, clutching the blanket closely around his body and leaning heavily against his younger brother as they tread out of the basement. His clothes are nowhere in sight.

"Dean, he electrocuted you?" Sam can't believe it. Dean's heart – it nearly failed once. That can't happen again or…

Dean responds with a shudder, leaving Sam to stop in his track.

"That's it, Dean. We're going to hospital right now."

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dean curls up in the passenger seat of the Impala as Sam picks his clothes from the trunk. That perverted Dracula must have kept his suit in someplace safe, perhaps for it to worship later were it still alive. Dean shudders at both the thought and the chilling sensation of the leather upholstery that seeps through the thin blanket he's bundled into. He's never felt this cold. What takes Sam so long?

As if answering his unspoken question, the car door jerks open. Dean nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Sam!" he snaps, irritated.

"Sorry, Dean." The boy looks almost sheepish, thrusting rolls of a tee, a shirt, jeans, and his older brother's beloved leather jacket into Dean's hands. "By the way, you need help with those?"

Dean eyes the clothes and glares at Sam briefly.

"What do you think?" He switches back to the pile and looks more closely. "Sam, you forget something."

"You think?" Sam frowns.

"Look, I'm not going to go commando with you."

Bright red colors Sam's face. "Oh." And he retreats quickly, out of the car in an instant.

Dean smirks to himself, feeling mischievously content.

He's glad Sam spares some time for him to get dressed, and waits by the car although somewhere between zipping up his jeans and pulling on the t-shirt suddenly Dean feels utterly spent and begins to doze off. The next thing he knows Sam's face is crowding into his.

"Get off me, Sammy." Dean's voice slurs and shortly turns into a protest when Sam works on putting the t-shirt on him.

"Come on, Dean, let me help. You passed out just now."

"I didn't! I was just – asleep."

"Yeah, right. And how're you feeling right now? Refreshed?"

Dean straightens up and opens his mouth ready to return the question with a witty remark, when suddenly the world seems to tilt and nausea waves into his throat and head, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly.

"Dean? Talk to me, man." Sam shakes his body.

But he can't. He just can't. He feels so light he thought he were floating and spinning in the air. And the last thing he remembers is he's spewing out all of the content of his stomach all over himself and Sam.

He's been so edgy. He almost didn't allow those paramedics and doctors to take Dean behind the closed doors. But in the end Sam's just had to trust them because _Dean Young_ is a respected FBI Agent here. They'll do their best to make him better.

Yet – is this, what? A déjà vu?

The doctors' words, their remorseful eyes, it's Nebraska all over again.

Sam drops to a chair next to Dean's bed as his legs can't hold his weight anymore. He can't do that. He can't lose him again. Dean's hand is no longer clammy when he reaches for it but it feels frighteningly cold. Sam finds he misses the absence of snarky remarks upon the handholding, and he wipes his watery eyes.

Then he suddenly sees it. Another presence in the room.

Sam leaps up from his seat.

"Who are you!" he shouts, at a … man? – he does look like an ordinary man, dark-haired and wearing a light brown coat over his suit, looking uncomfortably disheveled to Sam's liking. But what kind of man suddenly comes out of thin air like a spirit? Or, is he really a spirit? Sam didn't hear any sign coming from his EMF meter.

The man doesn't reply. He only spares Sam a glance and turns his full attention back to Dean, resting a hand over Dean's heart.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Silence.

And, in a blink of an eye, the man disappears. Sam gasps, searching around the room.

_"Castiel…"_

_What?_ Sam swirls back to Dean. His brother's awake?

"Dean?"

But Dean is still deep in slumber though he looks visibly more – relaxed – and colors seem to return to his face. Sam swallows. _Castiel was here, to save Dean?_

A cold gust of the wind breezes through the blinds as the first slivers of the dawn break over the horizon, and Sam lets out a shudder.

The End

AN: My biggest thanks to all of you who have spared me the time to read this little offering.


End file.
